The Black Stallion by Walter Farley

dragging him through the water—hours and hours they battled the waves in the darkness. He roamed the island, fighting against starvation. He discovered the carragheen that had saved them both. He rode the stallion for the first time—that wild, never-to-be-forgotten ride! Then the fire, that awful fire, which turned out to be a blessing in disguise. The joy that was his when he saw the sailors dragging their boat up the beach. Rio de Janeiro—home.…
    He finished, and there was silence. His mother’s hand was gripping his. The clock ticked loudly. It seemed to say, “You’re home … you’re home …”
    His father’s pipe had gone out. “I don’t know what to say, son”—he broke the silence—“except that God must have been with you—and with us.” He turned to Mrs. Ramsay. “We’re pretty thankful, aren’t we, Mother?”
    Alec felt the pressure of her hand. “Yes,” she answered, “we have much to be thankful for.”
    “I can understand now how you love that horse,” Joe Russo said.
    “Yes, Alec,” said his father, “I can promise you now he’ll always have a place here with us.”
    “If it wasn’t for him—that wild, untamed animal—” his mother said.
    Joe Russo stood up. “I want to thank you for letting me stay,” he said. “If there is anything I can ever do—”
    Mr. Ramsay rose from his chair. “That’s all right. Glad to have helped you,” he said. “Good night.” He held out his hand.
    “Good night, sir.” He smiled at Alec and his mother. “Take good care of that horse,” he said to the boy.
    “You bet I will,” answered Alec. “And thanks for all you’ve done.”
    Not long after Joe left, Alec said good night to his parents and went to bed. The excitement of being home and sleeping in his own bed again made him restless. He lay awake for an hour, then he fell into a sound sleep.
    Suddenly a shrill whistle awakened him. He opened his eyes sleepily. Had he been dreaming or had he actually heard the Black scream? The night was still. A minute passed. Then he heard the whistle again—it was the Black.
    Alec jumped out of bed. The clock on his dresser told him it was only a little after twelve! He was wide awake as he pulled on his robe and quickly ran downthe stairs and out the door. He heard the Black scream again as he entered the gate. Lights flashed on in Henry’s house—then in the houses near by. The Black was waking everyone up! Alec sprinted toward the barn. He reached the door. The light was on!
    The Black screamed when he saw him. His head reached far out over the stall.
    “Dio mio!”
a voice was moaning from inside Napoleon’s stall. Alec couldn’t see anybody—only old Napoleon, who stood trembling on the far side of his stall. His frightened eyes turned beseechingly toward Alec.
“Dio mio!”
came the voice again.
    “Hello,” yelled Alec. “Who’s there?”
    The Black pawed nervously at the floor of his stall. Then Alec saw a hand move over the top of Napoleon’s door and cautiously push it open. Suddenly, like a charging fullback, a man plunged through the stall door.
    He swept past and was outside before Alec could catch a glimpse of him. The Black whistled again. “Hey, Black,” yelled Alec, “take it easy!” Then he ran toward the door and looked out into the night. Alec saw a man standing beside Henry, who had just arrived on the scene. It was Tony, the huckster, owner of Napoleon! Poor Tony, he’d probably been frightened to death at the sight of the Black in the stall next to Napoleon!
    “Hello, Tony,” Alec called as he made his way toward him. Some of the neighbors, their robes pulled hastily about them, were coming up the driveway. Then the sound of a police siren reached Alec’s ears.“Gosh,” he said as a police car turned into the driveway. “Tony, you’re all right, aren’t you?” he asked.
    “Sure, he’s all right,” answered Henry, grinning. “The Black just surprised him.”
    Tony only nodded. He was